Did that really just happen?
by Anon from 196 and 204
Summary: Another kink meme de-anon! Prompt: Nations' embarrassment at their bosses or citizens.


Request: . ?thread=63601671#t63601671

Pairings: none

Warnings: unbeta'd.

1) Austria

Versailles smelled like a sewer; it actually made Austria feel a little nauseous. He was being stalked by a woman who kept "correcting his etiquette", the musicians were mediocre, he felt ludicrously out of place, and he just wanted to go home, where he wouldn't have to ask a teenage girl detailed questions about her menstrual cycle to satisfy her mother's curiosity.

"So wonderful to see you again, Maria Antonia," said Austria, even though he was never very close to her, and France's presence dampened his mood somewhat.

"It's Marie Antoinette now," she reminded him.

"Yes, excuse my error," he said.

"The King's quarters are this way," said France, gesturing at the nearest hallway. Austria thought it unnecessary to say this, as the King's quarters were the only ones with a guard stationed outside its closed door.

The door opened, and out walked an attractive, if garishly dressed, woman. Her hair was slightly disheveled and the scent of sex clinging to her was unmistakable. Not even her thick, flowery perfume could cover it up.

Why, she was a whore!

"Who's that?" asked Marie. Austria suddenly remembered that she was only fourteen.

"She is Madame du Barry," said France. Thankfully, he did not elaborate on her position._ Madame?_ thought Austria. She must be an adulterer, then; his original assumption wasn't too far off. Austria had been warned that in Versailles, extramarital affairs were the norm instead of the exception, but he hadn't expected it to be so blatant.

"Why was she important enough to see the King by herself?" asked Marie innocently. Austria crossed his arms and glared meaningfully at France. _You must not spoil my princess._

France paused for a second, and the guard spared him by saying that the woman was there to "give pleasure to the King."

"Oh, then I shall be her rival, because I too wish to give pleasure to the King!" said Marie.

Austria was sure he turned crimson. He turned away to hide his face from Marie.

Evidently, Marie noticed. "Did I say something strange?" she asked.

"N-no, not at all," said Austria, doing his best not to look at France, who seemed to be immensely enjoying Austria's discomfort.

It was an awkward few minutes, until Marie was finally admitted to see the King. Austria could see France straining not to laugh. He was grateful that France had the courtesy to wait until the guard escorted Marie into the King's quarters before succumbing to laughter.

"It's not funny," said Austria, over France's laugh.

"Yes it is!" said France, holding his sides. "She's so _innocent_!"

Austria gave France a sharp slap upside the head.

"At least I know that you haven't corrupted her yet," said Austria.

"You've gotten conservative in your old age," teased France.

"You're insufferable," murmured Austria through his hands, which he was using to shield his red face.

2) America

He asked Poppy not to go, told him everyone would understand. Poppy patted him on the back, coughed a little, and complimented America's concern for his health. He had to go, though; he didn't want the international press to think he was in his room sulking after Emperor Akihito beat him at tennis, now, did he? America rolled his eyes and pretended to agree.

"Barb, he's too sick to go," America said the minute Poppy left the room to change into his dinner clothes.

"It's just a little cough," she said.

"You know how many kids I raised? I know the flu when I see it!" said America as she smoothed his collar.

"That many of our predecessors made you watch their children?" asked Barb. She put a dollop of styling mousse in her hand. America sighed and bent his head down to her level.

"Sure did! Did I ever tell you about the time Archie Roosevelt snuck his pony into the White House elevator?" asked America.

"I don't believe you have," she said, trying fruitlessly to tame Nantucket.

Poppy re-entered the room. "Barb, America, it's time to leave," he said.

"I'll tell you the story in the car," said America.

America was glad that Japan had decided to have a separate table for the nations. As fun as it was to hang out with regular people, sometimes he just needed to talk to people like him.

He sat and ate and listened to Lithuania telling his factory stories for once and watched his President look sicker and sicker until-

And then he saw it happen; Poppy threw up and passed out. Goddammit, he knew Poppy had the flu! He freaking called it! Right in Prime Minister Miyazawa's lap, too! Thankfully, Barb was there to catch the worst of it in a napkin.

Even though America's mind froze, he could still hear the barely controlled giggles.

"Perhaps he overindulged?" said France.

"He's sick," said America.

The looks of disbelief and pity were too much for him to bear. "Really, he's sick!" protested America.

"Of course he is," said England over his fourth glass of wine.

"How much did he have to drink before he came here?" asked. . . someone, America couldn't see who; he chose to ignore them.

America turned to Japan, who was conveniently sitting next to him. "I am so, _so_ sorry," he said. He kept babbling apologies until Japan put a comforting hand on his shoulder, which shocked him into silence, because, seriously, since when does Japan actually touch people?

"I hope there is nothing wrong with the food," Japan whispered to America.

"Nah," said America. "He was sick before he came here."

"I am relieved to hear that," said Japan.

"I'm so sorry, you know I am," said America.

"America-san," said Japan. "We will never speak of this again."

"Dude, I love you for saying that," said America.

"Perhaps you would like to check on your boss?" said Japan.

"Good idea! I'll catch you guys tomorrow!" said America, and he practically ran out of the hall.

3) Russia

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Russia awoke so abruptly that he almost fell out of bed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Groggily, Russia shuffled to the hotel room's door.

BANGBANGBANGBANG

Russia opened the door.

"Whaizzit?" he asked the hotel employee, a plump middle-aged man whose nametag said something like 'Bert'. Russia's vision was a little fuzzy at the moment.

"I have a message for you," said Bert.

"Oh, you couldn't call me?" asked Russia.

"You slept through the phone calls," said Bert. "You have to pick up Mr. Yeltsin, he's behaving strangely."

"What's he doing?" asked Russia. _Again?_, he thought.

"I wasn't told," said the employee.

"Could you call me a cab? I need to get dressed," said Russia. Bert nodded and returned to the lobby, or so Russia presumed.

Russia was so tired that put his trousers on over his pajama pants and his coat over his Winnie-the-Pooh patterned shirt.

Apparently, 'strangely' was code for 'standing by the side of Pennsylvania Avenue in his underwear, trying in vain to catch a cab, and doubtless reeking of alcohol'.

When Russia pointed him out, the cab driver hesitated before pulling up to the curb.

"You're paying the cleaning fees if he pukes in the cab," said the driver.

"Really?" said Russia, with his widest grin. The cab driver shuddered and seemed to reconsider his statement.

Russia opened the door, suppressing a grimace at the chilly night air.

"Boris, we need to go back to the hotel," said Russia. He received a slurred 'but I want pizza' in reply.

"Get. In. The. Cab.," said Russia through clenched teeth.

"No," said Boris.

Russia lunged from the cab, grabbing his boss around the waist, and, bumping his head on the doorframe, dragged him into the cab.

While Boris was busy complaining about his injury, Russia wrestled him into his overcoat.

"I still want pizza," said Boris.

"Fine," said Russia.

"Excuse me, do you know of any pizza places near here?" Russia asked the cab driver.

"There's one right down the street," said the cab driver.

"Stay in the cab," he told Boris.

The trip to the pizza parlor was fairly painless. There was a nice young man waiting in line, also in pajamas, who gave Russia a commiserating smile and asked him when his wife was due. Russia didn't bother correcting him, but smiled back and said "Not soon enough, my friend."

Going back to his hotel room was more difficult. Russia had to walk very carefully, as he held the pizza box in one arm and was supporting his boss with the other.

Unsurprisingly, there was a large crowd of diplomats and nations surrounding the bar that some stupid hotel planner decided to put right next to the elevators. Russia tried to pull his boss past them.

Boris started waving frantically at them. "Hi, everybody!"

"Boris, shut up," Russia hissed in his ear. _Some of these people are ambassadors who you will have to ask to pay off their parking fines tomorrow_, thought Russia.

"Anyone want pizza?" Boris shouted at the crowd. Russia wished he had a third hand to put over Boris' mouth.

Predictably, Belarus joined him. Russia could smell that she had been drinking, and though alcohol generally mellowed her out, every once in awhile, it would make her even worse-tempered. Russia decided not to take any chances, and did not protest her presence.

The pizza wasn't bad. Neither was Belarus. She and Boris had a perfectly civil chat about the best soil composition for growing rye while Russia stayed silent and wondered how to get the tomato stains off of his coat.

When they were finished, Belarus said "Brother, I have no meetings tomorrow morning. I will play cards with him until he falls asleep and make sure that he isn't sick while he's sleeping."

"Thank you very much," said Russia, and on impulse, he patted her on the back. Her face turned even pinker as she escorted Boris to her room, and Russia fell asleep with the knowledge that his boss was safely playing cards with his younger sister, and a foolish hope that nobody would tell the newspapers.

4) Veneziano and Romano

Finland heard his secretary's phone ring from outside his office.

She knocked on the open door before coming in. "Call on line three, Mr. Finland," she said.

"Thank you, Sofia" said Finland. He picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he said.

"FINLAND I'M SO SORRY-"

"NOT SO FUCKING LOUD-"

Finland winced and quickly held the phone away from his ear.

"Veneziano? Romano? Is that you?" he asked.

There was a small sniffle. "Yeah, it's us," said Veneziano.

"Hang on, I'm going to put you on speaker phone," said Finland, making a 'shh' gesture to Sophia, who was standing at the doorway; he knew she enjoyed listening to his (more frivolous) conversations with the other nations. He pressed the speaker button and put the phone on the receiver.

"Okay, what's the problem?" asked Finland.

"Our boss said something rude about your boss," said Veneziano

"Uh. . ." said Finland. He refrained from asking if this was the first apologetic call they'd be making today.

"Just shut up and let us apologize," said Romano.

"What did he say?" asked Finland.

"Oh, you don't know?" said Veneziano. "Never mind, sorry to bother y- OW DON'T PINCH ME!"

"What my stupid baby brother meant to say is that we're sorry Signor Berlusconi said that he had to 'dust off his playboy charms' to convince your President to locate the European Food Safety Authority in Parma," said Romano.

"No problem," said Finland.

"And. . . and. . . we're also sorry that his secretary backed him up after people complained and said that anyone who had seen what President Halonen looks like would have realized that Signor Berlusconi was joking," said Veneziano.

"Thank you for apologizing. That _was_ pretty rude," said Finland.

"Don't rub it in," muttered Romano.

_Click. Buzzzzzz._

Finland hung up the phone.

"Well, it was a petty insult. He didn't insult her brain or worth as a person," said Finland to Sophia. "But still, that _was_ pretty rude."

"You're so upbeat," she said.

"I should tell President Halonen about this," said Finland.

"I'll order the pizza while you do that," said Sofia.

"Thank you," said Finland.

5) Japan

Despite the frustrating meetings and strong need to sleep, Japan was actually having a pleasant day. He supposed that it had something to do with indulging his loves of public parks and being alone. It was his method of not giving in to jet lag.

He had managed to choose an hour when the park was not invaded by tourists. It was as empty as a park in New York City could ever be, save a few older ladies, teenagers singing show tunes, and a young man holding a camera, trying to take a picture of pigeons that were roosting in a tree.

Japan stepped aside to let the man take his picture of the birds; the man did not smile or thank him, but blanched and swiftly walked away.

It couldn't be. . . .

Japan pursued him the best he could, but he almost lost the young man a few times, and was breathing heavily by the time he finally caught up with him.

"Good evening," Japan tried to say, clutching his chest. The young man looked even more alarmed. Japan allowed the young man to steer him to the nearest bench.

After Japan was safely seated, the young man said "Good evening," quietly, in heavily accented English.

"It is a lovely evening," said Japan.

"Yes, it is," said the young man. They sat in silence for a minute.

"I don't know how you found out about us," said Japan, switching to Japanese. The young man turned even paler, which Japan didn't think was possible. "Nor is it necessary that you tell me," Japan continued, hoping that he was not about to run off.

"I think I know what this is about," said the young man, looking resigned.

"That is a relief," said Japan.

"I embarrassed you," said the young man.

Japan paused for a moment before saying "There's no need to say it so bluntly."

"My apologies," said the young man.

"No apology is needed," said Japan. "However, your actions have left me in an awkward position," he admitted, which wasn't quite true (It was more than awkward to listen to Korea's teary "Is that what you and China really think of me?"), but Japan didn't want to make him feel worse.

"I didn't mean to..." the young man trailed off.

"I'm aware that you didn't mean to offend anyone," said Japan, "but you got caught up in a very old argument."

"You and Korea-" began the young man.

"It is not something I would like to discuss," said Japan, feeling slightly hypocritical for pointing out the young man's earlier bluntness. They enjoyed another moment of silence, watching the sunset.

"You're not going to tell anyone else about me, are you?" asked the young man.

"The other nations, you mean? Many of them already know about your comic, although very few read it regularly," said Japan. "America and I enjoyed your take on how we first met," he admitted. The young man relaxed minutely.

"Thank you," he said.

"May I. . ." Japan coughed softly and began again. "May I ask one favor of you, if you'll excuse my impoliteness?"

"Please, go ahead," said the young man.

"Whenever you write your comic, please keep in mind that we nations are allowing you to put words in our mouths," said Japan.

"Yes, Japan-sama," said the young man. Japan did not smile, but the edges of his neutral expression softened slightly.

"I think the honorific -san will suffice. . . Himaruya-san," said Japan.

"Yes, Japan-san," said Himaruya. It was nearly dark.

"Excuse me if this is too much to ask, but may I please have some way of contacting you if I have a question or another problem like this?" asked Himaruya.

"Of course you may," said Japan "but I'm afraid I gave away all my business cards at today's meeting. Would you mind if I put my number in your phone?"

Himaruya handed Japan his phone.

"May I also have Korea's number so I can apologize to him myself?" asked Himaruya, looking over Japan's shoulder.

"That would be very diplomatic of you," said Japan, and added it.

"Thank you so much," said Himaruya.

"I'm glad to have had the opportunity to talk with you," said Japan.

"I never thought I'd actually get to meet you," said Himaruya. Japan smiled at his sincerity.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, it's getting very late," said Japan.

"Sorry to have kept you so late," said Himaruya. "Good night."

"Good night," said Japan, starting to meander his way back to the hotel.


End file.
